The Fury's Howl
by AstralUmbral
Summary: Voltare, a pirate from the seas of Limsa Lominsa. A brief story to help introduce the character.


The Fury's howl

His smile could not be contained. The thrill of it already singing through his veins. This was what he lived for, man against nature. Beating the odds, and coming out all the stronger for it. The tall dark haired elezen marched on deck, his boots hammering against the rain soaked wood.

"Looks like we're going to have a bit of fun laddies." He sneared to the darkening horizon. The sea already began to churn, sending the ship pitching this way and that. The sailors, his trusted crew, looked up to the sky, to the foreboding storm.

The tension in the air was nearly palpable.

"Batten down the hatches, Raise the sails!" He barked, a flurry of activity following his command. Voltare leaned against the smooth wood railing at the helm of the ship and smiled. "We're goin in Boys, May the Twelve preserve us"

The bow dipped low, rolling on a thick wave as the winds began to catch 'The Fury's Howl'. The sails caught before they could be fully secured, one of the three masts beginning to bend with the sudden force of the squall that bore down upon them.

Quick as a cat he was down the small set of steps and down onto the main deck. The crew was lively, each man doing more than his share. Each one depending on the other for his very life. The old seadogs had seen their share of storms, and had not a greenhorn among them.

The ship groaned, and listed to the portside. Sea water sprayed as a wave buffeted aginst it. Salty brine sprayed over the side, drenching the deck and many of the crew. The cold chilling them to the bone, but they carried on.

At long last the sails were fully secured, bound tightly to the masts. Lightning ripped the sky, yet even with its light there was nothing but an angry frothing sea for as far as the eye could see. Darkness, pure and complete, the wet ripping nightmare of any sailor.

"LASH" He called, pulling free a bundle of tightly woven rope and tossing it to the nearest man. The able bodied Miqo'te passed it off to the next. The men beginning to bind themselves in place. Securing a length a rope around themselves and to the ship. Lest they fall overboard and be lost to the unforgiving seas.

A loud crack, like thunder, ripped through the air as the mainstay snapped. The thick rope nearly hitting a large Roegadyn. His face paled under his white flecked beard, he had only been inches away from a clean, quick, death.

Several men moved to set a new stay, scambling to pull the heavy rope up the mast as it bent and swayed on the wild winds. The boom arched across the deck, sweeping clean across as the ship listed. The hitching of the waves dropping the floor out from their feet, weightless for the space of a heartbeat, before the ship slammed back into the water.

He yelled, though his voice was barely a whisper over the crashing waves. The screaming of wind and sea. "HOLD HER LINES" He raced forward, grabbing onto a bit of snapped rope, with a flick of his wrist it seemed he had it knotted into the coil at his feet, lashing it against the side of the ship to hold it until the mainstay could be ran. Around him the crew did the same. Securing broken lines, repairing ropes as they snapped.

Another crack of lightning, and he had but only a moment to pray. The shadow of a wave loomed over them. A curse upon his lips as the ocean swallowed the ship.

The force of the water shoved him against the back of the boat, slamming him against the raised wall of the wheelhouse. By this luck and grace alone did he manage to hold on, as the prow pierced the far side of the wave and 'The Fury's Howl' slammed through the otherside.

Voltare spit seawater and cursed again, his lungs screaming and his back ached. His shoulder had taken the brunt of the push, but beyond a little bruised in pride and body, he was sound. His teal eyes searched the deck, counting his men, his comrades, his family.

"Pumps!" He barked. The ship had not fully righted herself, he could feel the slightest lazy tilt to the starboard. She at low in the water, another wave rolling under her, pitching her high. Surely they had taken on some water, and only more would join it as the storm went on. His first mate barked a command into the intercom, and Voltare marched down the deck. Every step was sure footed, despite the pitch and sway under him. He, like his crew, had weathered many a storm. This was not to be his last.

Brine stung his eyes, the sheeting rain doing little to clear it. He gazed up at the mast as he approached the steps. She would hold, as she had many times before. For a moment concern rippled through him. "Not today." he mumbled, releaving the helmsman and taking control of the wheel.

The gleam in his eye matched the wildness of his smile, he held the ship firmly on course. The prow rising and falling with the swell of the waves. The flow of the sea cresting over the sides of the ship again and again.

His arms ached, but he held the helm tight, unrelenting , preventing the rudder from going slack. The prow slid low, the wind ripping through them and his stomach dropping out before the waves found the hull and the ship slammed against the sea. His chest slammed against the wheel as gravity returned, and he groaned.

"Easy, you ruthless bitch!" he spat to the sea. Another wave rising up to meet them. He angled the prow towards the behemoth, facing the ship to take it head on. His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip upon the wheel. The wave crested above them. Higher and higher it climbed. It felt as if the wave stretched to the heavens itself, clear into the dark clouds.

She ascended.

Silver moonlight pierced the heavens. Radiant beams dancing along the black churrning waves. The roll of thunder rattled the ship, it felt as if the prow scraped against the clouds.

Ethereal majesty.

They fell back to the earth upon a wave of stardust. Silver sparkling waves glittering like cache of diamonds. 'The Fury's Howl' moaned, her boards creaking loudly as her weight slammed through the waves, again and again. Voltare retched the wheel to the side, straightening out their path to the next wave, and the next.

The ocean played catch with them as the clouds continued to thin, the rain slacking into a drizzle. They has seen the worst of it, having skimmed the outter edge and missing the thickest part of the storm band.

The Gods had been kind.

Voltare smiled up at the sky, the full moon shining bright back at him. His heart raced, his body was bashed, bruished, and he was alive. Adrenaline filled him, the high of it racing through his veins. Another storm bested, another tale to tell.

Another day left to live.

It made a man appreciate every breath, every heart beat in his chest. Why squander such a gift. Relish this life, live it. Thrive in it! Gods be damned, he was going to live it. The sea continued to churn, slowly calming to choppy waters.

"WE'VE DONE IT AGAIN LADS!" He cried, fist pumping in the air in victory.

The cheer from the crew split the night, weary, tired souls.. thriving. They had lived. He released the helm, and flexed his fingers. The joints were cold and stiff, his callused hands long beyond water logged.

"I leave her to you Mister Mayhew." He said, passing the helm to his first mate.

Voltare took his leave, moving to the stern of the ship, leaning against the soaked railing. His heart sang in his chest, and he closed his eyes. Relishing the moment, the feeling of the smooth wood under his fingers. Every breath of the salty air. The way his soaked clothing sapped his warmth, and bogged him down. The way his heavy braid was nearly undone by the tides. Sea-swept, and covered in brine. The way his heart beat in his chest, the zest for adventure and thrill of the turbulent seas as blood in his veins.

The storm continued to rage behind them, the echoing thunder trailing in their wake. The sky danced with flashes of lightning and the sea heaved. But they were on to calmer seas, the worst of it far behind them.

The silver rays of the moon peaked over the clouds. Caressing his drenched, sunkissed skin, and his thoughts wandered.

HIs vibrant eyes found the orb of light once more and he smiled. Funny, how it now reminded him of different things. Yet, maybe that had always been the case.

Perhaps she had always been there, in the back of his mind. The pale haired Miqo'te who had stolen the world. The flash of her smile, the way her cheeks flushed under her golden skin. The twinkle, so like his, in her amethyst eyes.

Moon of his life, stars of his sky.

He sucked in a cold breath and pushed away from the railing, away from the the embrace of the celestial sphere. He would see her again in due time. There was work to be done.

The Captain surveyed his First Mate. "Mister Mayhew." he said, crossing his arms over his drenched chest. " Take us home. "


End file.
